


coalesce

by datsuzoku (koshitsu_kamira)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koshitsu_kamira/pseuds/datsuzoku
Summary: Crushes are hard enough, but of course Hansol had to go ahead and fall in love.





	coalesce

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.

Three hours into the trek Hansol begins second-guessing all the decisions which have ultimately come down to his sorry ass crawling up the Halla Mountain at the time when he is usually asleep, blissfully unaware of the happenings beneath his windows, buried under a feather light blanket, the air conditioning unit keeping the temperature crisp and pleasant. Instead he is sweating buckets while climbing a steep incline, trying to stick together with an exuberant Junhui, who is recording the journey towards the summit, his commentary flowing easily despite the rough terrain, only taking stops to document the incredible scenery or the blooming flowers spread along the wooden trail - occasionally, he also films Hansol, asking how the younger feels, smile blinding. Hansol feels his lips twitch in response, grin involuntary as he watches Junhui walk backwards, disheveled tresses alit from the early morning sunshine, creating a golden halo around his head, “everything is wonderful,” he proclaims, suddenly grateful that blushes wouldn’t show through the natural flush of physical exertion; crushes are hard enough, but of course he had to go ahead and fall in love.

Junhui beams upon receiving the answer, the apples of his cheeks protruding before he declares, off-handed, “there’s a reason you’re my favourite,” then grabbing Hansol’s wrist, the touch scorching, he turns forward and continues rambling to the camera, leaving his companion shellshocked, the boy completely breathless for other reasons than the sweltering weather. Hansol is aware of the deer in headlights expression materializing on his face which he attempts hiding by perusing the landscape on the side, avoiding direct eye contact as he retreats inside the thin jacket Junhui lent him, having anticipated chilly wind and potential sunburn - honestly, he could have done without the extra layer, however, he hasn’t ever managed saying no to the elder. Quite simply, Hansol is whipped, he knows, has been wrapped around Junhui’s little finger since freshman orientation, the initial attraction evolving into admiration, a particular kind of fondness reserved for lovers, not friends, a truth he accepted during the summer months spent away from campus grounds, wandering in a forest behind God’s back and wishing he could at least call the other boy. Returning to the university dorm that September was an eye-opening experience whereas Hansol became conscious of the slightest movements Junhui made, the cadence he breathed, the minute changes having occurred in his absence, like the freckle constellations across the elder’s cheekbones or the russet tinge where the sun left its mark, kissing goodbye.

Considering his shy and intensely private nature, Hansol appreciates the hush-hush their friends has maintained throughout the two years the younger tiptoed around his feelings, tested the boundaries and worked out the kinks concerning life generally speaking, an epiphany about his sexuality included, slowly figuring out what exactly his limits contained. Past the growing pains, graduation looming on the horizon, Hansol has decided now was the perfect time to come to terms with his constantly growing sentiments towards Junhui, the butterflies taking flight, waltzing each moments the older boy so much as glances in his direction, calls his name sweetly, gently, voice sounding akin to mellow currents playing the wind chimes. 

Hansol used to have a very specific ideal type back in the days he thought the world was solely his oyster - ironically, Junhui matched not even a single criterion on the List that was actually a fairly accurate portrait of the popular actresses, female singers his hormone driven peers deemed sexually appealing when boys liking girls, and vice versa, was a somewhat indisputable fact for their community. Junhui didn’t fit a preconceived image, rather, he has defined, given real meaning to the phrase until he emerged as Hansol’s point of reference concerning anything vaguely romance-related, an embarrassing development, still, a character improvement in retrospect, wherein he stopped obsessing over mainstream concepts, mass-produced objects. Hansol owes Junhui a whole lot, starting from the afternoon he cried, homesick, behind the library shelves, alone at first, then cradled inside gentle arms, to the hours of dawn he was near unconscious, delirious with fever despite the cold medicine consumed, the older boy keeping his head over the water level, whispering reassurances while he took a lukewarm bath. 

“Thank you for accompanying me,” Junhui says after they have reached the summit and finished marvelling at the crater lake glittering sapphire below the radiant sunlight, “the other guys are just impossible to wake in time for the departure,” he complains, half-serious, mostly joking, eyes affectionate, “those lazybutts don’t know what they’re missing out on.” Hansol chuckles obligingly and swears either the heat or sleep deprivation has finally gotten to him because the next moment he stutters, completely out of mind, gaze forgotten on Junhui, the smile lingering along his lips, irises molten gold, “I would climb a thousand mountains with you” - the words hover between them, in the startled quiet which drowns out the background noise, mundane chatter.

Belatedly Junhui laughs, the incredulous sound disrupting the silence, “do you mean that?” he asks then, tone earnest, stare wistful, “I don’t want to misunderstand you,” the elder trails off, grip noticeably tightening around the camera, glance darting across Hansol’s face, searching for an answer, oblivious to the crowd milling about the plateau, jostling him in the process. “Yeah,” Hansol blurts out, instinctively tugging the other boy closer by his forearm, the toe tips of their sneakers bumping together clumsily, “I do,” he breathes against Junhui’s mouth, wordlessly staring at the cast shadows adorning high cheekbones, before their eyes connect and the world recedes to warm skin, muffled chuckles, agile fingers tangled in windblown hair, calves burning as he rises to meet the elder halfway. Junhui tastes like apple cider, unfiltered grape juice, the nutmeg sprinkled into a glass of milk, honey spread on toasted bread: the microcosmos winter through autumn, and Hansol would gladly drown in the elements which make the older boy so addictive, irresistible, a shameless whine slipping past his lips when the other leans back, allowing the balmy air to kiss him instead. Junhui’s luminous smile is a handsome compensation for the loss though, even while Hansol struggles to believe he is the reason behind such joyous expression, the versicolor glimmers embedded within a tender gaze that traces the rosy hue tinting his ears pink and follows their steps down the mountain, the winding path the younger would gladly walk evermore.


End file.
